Lady Steeple Hands
There is another Steeple Hands, a lady Steeple Hands. She wears fat pearl earrings and long, silk scarves and pleated pants just like Aunt Ally does sometimes. We have entire conversations about milkshakes and which flavor fits a first date best and what it means to eat big food, and whether or not a guy will still like you if you order two burgers just for you and extra large fries and a giant milkshake too.
“The guy may not care,” Lady Steeple Hands says. “But your stomach will hate you.”
Ally likes the way this Steeple Hands talks. It seems they both speak the same language about big food. They both look as if they eat reduced fat everything. And I almost expect at any moment they will compare notes on the best places around town to shop for health food and for clothes and that nude shade of lipstick I noticed both of them seem to wear.
“Try making breakfast shakes,” the Steeple Hands says.
With full fat ice cream. Big Sister whispers.
“If either of you actually eats ice cream,” I say. "The real kind, with cream, I bet it’s wrapped in lettuce.” Only Big Sister laughs.
“You can make them with ice cream,” Lady Steeple Hands says. “But if you use yogurt, then you’ll have more room for big food later.”
Big Sister goes on about how smart Lady Steeple Hands is and that if I listened to her, maybe a guy like Mickey would actually ask me out. This time I remember where I am and I don’t tell Big Sister to shut up.
After I drink the shakes for a few weeks, the wig stops itching. Ally makes me those shakes, but she makes them the Steeple Hands way - with fresh fruit and yogurt and tons of ice. Don drives me to school and Ally picks me up most days and I remember all the places outside of class, all of the places I used to see Julio or Mickey and all of their friends. Either they avoid me or I avoid them or it's some cosmic combination of both of these. Even the imaginaries have stopped speaking to me - all of them - Big Sister, G.D., and the fairies too.
And then Grizzly starts saving boxes and everything changes. I dump out my breakfast shakes, even when they’re chocolate.
“The guy may not care,” Lady Steeple Hands says. “But your stomach will hate you.”
Ally likes the way this Steeple Hands talks. It seems they both speak the same language about big food. They both look as if they eat reduced fat everything. And I almost expect at any moment they will compare notes on the best places around town to shop for health food and for clothes and that nude shade of lipstick I noticed both of them seem to wear.
“Try making breakfast shakes,” the Steeple Hands says.
With full fat ice cream. Big Sister whispers.
“If either of you actually eats ice cream,” I say. "The real kind, with cream, I bet it’s wrapped in lettuce.” Only Big Sister laughs.
“You can make them with ice cream,” Lady Steeple Hands says. “But if you use yogurt, then you’ll have more room for big food later.”
Big Sister goes on about how smart Lady Steeple Hands is and that if I listened to her, maybe a guy like Mickey would actually ask me out. This time I remember where I am and I don’t tell Big Sister to shut up.
After I drink the shakes for a few weeks, the wig stops itching. Ally makes me those shakes, but she makes them the Steeple Hands way - with fresh fruit and yogurt and tons of ice. Don drives me to school and Ally picks me up most days and I remember all the places outside of class, all of the places I used to see Julio or Mickey and all of their friends. Either they avoid me or I avoid them or it's some cosmic combination of both of these. Even the imaginaries have stopped speaking to me - all of them - Big Sister, G.D., and the fairies too.
And then Grizzly starts saving boxes and everything changes. I dump out my breakfast shakes, even when they’re chocolate.
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